


The Oriole and the Meadowlark

by bluetoast



Series: Birds of a Feather [38]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adorable, Deaf Dean Winchester, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 21:50:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1565267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetoast/pseuds/bluetoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean always thought romance was something for movies and storybooks. Ignacia Madgearu changed all that. He also thought that being dizzy was a bad thing - until he realized that sometimes, being so much in love it makes you dizzy, is can be a wonderful thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Oriole and the Meadowlark

Dean Coulter had learned that the world was a harsh place when he was four years old and his mom – Mary Winchester – died in a fire that reeked of sulfur. He never understood why his father – John Winchester – didn't smell it too. The smell had been what woke him up before the bed shaking alarm – the pure stench of it had been horrible and he'd first thought that maybe the toilet had backed up and overflowed, or something. He supposed the reason he had smelled it and no one else did had something to do with him being deaf. The sulfur was eventually overpowered by smoke and a pungent, wicked smell that he would later realize was the smell of his mother's flesh burning. 

It no longer mattered that he had smelled the sulfur in the house – he no longer fought monsters, worried about demons or anything else to do with John Winchester. He no longer had to be scared of monsters under the bed, in the closet, or sleeping in the next bed, as attributed to the nightmares he had every so often – the only trace of the five years he spent in a Hell no child should have to. 

Gymnastics had been his outlet for all the aggression and served as exercise – and then he got crazy good at the sport. Good enough to qualify for big competitions and earn fame – the first deaf American to be crowned a national champion. Gymnastics and school managed to overtake his life when he hit fourteen, leaving a little time for family – and almost no time for a social life. Oh, he'd had a few friends and had gone out on a handful of dates – nothing serious. 

Romance was a word for English class – until now. 

Ignacia Madgearu. 

A pixie from Romania. 

He spent hours learning how to say her name after World Championships in 1999 – just so he could say hello to her in Sydney. Only he didn't go to Sydney and he felt the effort wasted and she remained something ethereal and otherworldly, like an angel made of glass or a spun-sugar ornament. 

He could remember her smile, the one that seemed to be almost disbelieving and yet so genuine at the same time. When he'd offered her a hand up at Worlds, it hadn't been planned, it was just automatic, like holding open a door. 

But still, he found himself repeating her name from time to time – like she was some part of a dream.

Then his dream appeared to him in the cookbook section of the local Palo Alto library on a sunny August Saturday. 

Romance wasn't a word that had been a part of either of their worlds, until now. That Saturday had been ten months ago. 

Now the two of them were on a plane to Romania – headed for the small town of Cosoba. They were somewhere over the Atlantic and Ignacia was asleep next to him, her head resting on his shoulder. In two weeks, they would board a plane that would take them to Baltimore, and they would go to his parent's home in Fredrick. 

It was going to be quite the daunting visit to Ignacia's home town. He would meet her parents for the first time – and before the trip was over, he'd ask Armand, Ignacia's father, something he was already terrified about doing.  
Dean supposed he shouldn't be too surprised at how quickly he fell in love with Ignacia. He should have known he would, should have expected it – she'd been something in the corner of his mind for so long that perhaps he was already in love with her before he knew her. He'd been told countless times that deaf-hearing relationships didn't last. Well, he and Ignacia were different and they would prove to be the exception to the rule. 

So what if she was from Romania and English was her second language? It was her slow and deliberate speaking of his native language that made it easier to understand her – and the fact he couldn't hear her accent was an added bonus. Since he also spoke slowly, she didn't have too much trouble understanding him – he only had to write things down from time to time. She also was learning ASL – and he understood how hard that was to learn. His own signing had been woefully neglected as a child – until Pastor Jim had given him a book on ASL when he was seven – then his vocabulary took off.

He knew that Ignacia knew he wanted to marry her. She also knew that he felt it was only right if he went to her father and asked his permission – and he didn't care that Sam said that was stupid.

Sam couldn't keep a girlfriend for longer than four months, so really, he should shut up.

Dean glanced at his watch, which was already set for the time in Frankfurt. They had three more hours to go. He closed his eyes, resting his head against Ignacia's and let himself drift off.

*  
Armand Madgearu was a bear of a man. He reminded Dean a little of John Winchester in build, but he had a much kinder face – at least, Dean hoped it was kind. Octavia was rather like some of the teachers he'd had at school in Maryland. Willowy and worried, with a look of concern over almost anything. For his part, Dean was doing his best to hide his nerves. It wasn't easy when Ignacia immediately broke into Romanian – or, he assumed she did, because he couldn't understand a thing her lips were saying. He felt rather silly, standing there while she went off at a rapid pace, making him wonder if she took the time to breathe between words and finally, her parents turned to him.

Armand looked him over and then grabbed his hand to shake it. “So you are the gymnast that angered the Russians.”

“I... I believe that is me.” Dean replied, wondering if the man was talking about Worlds almost four years ago. 

“And now you study medicine.” He let go of Dean's hand and continued to look him up and down. Whatever he said next must have been in Romanian, because it caused his wife to turn around and give him a _look._

It was going to be a long couple of days.

*  
Dean got up at dawn the next two days to help Armand and his neighbor repair a stone fence that had been damaged over the winter. It was hard, backbreaking work – but since Ignacia was getting caught up with her mother, aunts and cousins, it wasn't that big of a deal, compared to the time he'd helped dig a drainage ditch, it was almost easy. Armand didn't seem to mind in the least, stating several times that the third pair of hands was making the job go twice as fast. Dean honestly couldn't imagine working on a stone wall for _four_ days. But no sooner was the wall mended then Armand had more work for him to do. 

Thankfully, the work didn't include repairing the Madgearu's roof – open heights weren't exactly something he was a fan of. Armand's main source of income came from carpentry work, which was a hobby Dean shared with his dad Michael, so helping out in the shop hadn't been difficult at all.

Compared to meeting Ignacia's wide and extended family the heavy labor was _very_ easy. 

Her grandmother on her mother's side stated he looked like a Dane – though as Dean had only been to Copenhagen once, (Worlds in 1997) he had no idea why she said such a thing. Grandmother Madgearu declared he was too skinny – and then added more food to his plate. The grandfathers reached a mutual agreement that he was a hardworking young man. 

Dean wiped his forehead on his arm as he looked up from the cabinet door he was sanding just in time to see Armand hand an oblong bag that looked like it held some sort of weapon to another man he hadn't met. He looked away quickly, but apparently not quick enough for the man, who came over and shoved him away from the workbench, grabbing his arm and saying something Dean could only guess at.

Armand was tugging at the man's other shoulder, trying to calm the man down, the expression on his face telling he was more worried about the man harming Dean than himself.

Dean shoved at the man with his free arm, his face contorting into a snarl and spat out a single word. “Hunter!” 

The man instantly let go of him, his face drawn back in shock and started speaking in rapid Romanian again, this time pointing emphatically at Dean, which if he had to guess, was the man asking Armand if he'd told him something. He pulled the notebook he'd been carrying from his back pocket and wrote something down and showed it to the yelling man.

_My mother was killed by a demon when I was four. I am not a hunter, but I know what one is. Armand told me nothing._

The man read it, blinked and then took hold of Dean in a hug like he was a long lost relative. Then something clicked in his mind – this man was a hunter, Armand was helping him and – well, shit. The man let go and held up a hand to Armand, indicating that everything was apparently perfectly fine now. He thumped Dean twice on the back, said something to Armand and went out the door of the workshop.

Armand, who seemed to have recovered from the incident the best of any of them turned to him. “You have not told Ignacia?”

Dean gave him a look that clearly stated 'what kind of idiot do you think I am?' and the man smiled. 

“Good, good. I don't want her knowing.” He touched Dean's arm and went back to work. 

After setting his notebook down, Dean did the same.

*

Dean looked at the long blackboard that ran the entire length of the front of the classroom. He had washed it, the few streaks of water still drying on the far side. He went over to the desk in the front row and picked up the box of colored chalk he had brought with him from home and pulled out one of the blue sticks. He then unfolded the small scrap of paper with the phrase he'd asked Octavia to write out for him. He checked his watch and then went to the board and began copying the phrase onto the board in big, bold, block letters. 

When he was finished, he went back to the box of chalk and got a piece of green and another of red and began to draw flowers around the phrase, framing it. Dean admitted to himself that this was extremely corny, but frankly – he didn't care. He set the chalk down, stepping back to look at his work. It wasn't moonlight, champagne and roses – but he and Ignacia weren't that sort of couple. In books and movies love had always seemed to complicated that way. It was probably the reason Dean couldn't stand those stupid chick-flicks. Somehow girls were supposed to just swoon over a guy who spoiled them and really didn't look at the girls for who they really were. Growing up the way he and Ignacia did, while it was miles apart, was similar in several ways. Ignacia had grown up in Deva, away from her parents and immersed in gymnastics. While he had spent four years happy in Kansas, five years in seedy motels facing physical and psychological abuse and then won the foster care lottery and got an entirely new life where he actually _belonged._

Dean shook his head to clear it and checked his watch again. Ignacia was supposed to be here in five minutes and he went to the window, looking down into the street. He could see her walking with her cousin Gina, the two of them laughing about something from the looks of things. He brushed his hands off and went over to the desk. He calmly put the chalk away and went to the door of the classroom and stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him. He went down the stairs and to the entrance of the school, just as Ignacia and Gina reached it. 

Ignacia greeted him with a hug and then she turned to her cousin and said something in Romanian. He wasn't sure what the conversation was about, but a moment later, Gina waved good-bye and went up the street. She turned back to Dean. _“All right, what's with all the mystery?”_

Dean shook his head and took her hand, leading her into the building. _“It's a surprise.”_

“Surprise?” She folded her arms, her face skeptical. “What sort of surprise could be in the school?”

He shrugged and pulled a scarf out of his pocket, motioning for her to turn around. “That's why it is a surprise.” He replied as he fixed the blindfold on her and took her hands in both of his, leading her up the stairs. “I counted them, don't worry.”

“I'm not worried.” She squeezed his hands tightly. “I...not being able to see where I'm going is a little unnerving.”

“This from the girl who performed exactly how many blind landings in her gymnastics career?” Dean grinned as he reached the classroom door and opened it, taking her hands back. “Now be careful, there are desks on both sides of you.” He led her carefully through the desks and stopped her in the middle of the front of the room. “One more minute.” Ignacia's hands fell to her sides as he walked over to the blackboard, standing on the far end of it. He took a deep breath, pulled a small box from his pocket and opened it. “All right, you can take the scarf off.” 

Dean watched, his heart pounding in his chest as she took the bright scarf up and dropped it in shock as she read the words he had written on the board: _Veţi căsători cu mine?_ Even from across the short distance, he could see her reading the phrase again and again, her hand flying up to cover her mouth in shock. She took a few steps forward, her expression unchanging. He was starting to feel foolish, standing here, next to a handwritten sign asking her to marry him while holding an open ring box. 

Her hands fell to her sides again and he could see that she was on the verge of tears. “This is a good surprise.” He could tell that she was trying to be the calm, confident, and serious Ignacia as she walked closer to him – and he also saw the exact moment when she broke. She closed the distance between them, throwing her arms around his neck in such a strong embrace, he nearly dropped the box. 

He returned the hug, pressing his face to the top of her head, feeling himself start to cry. “Is that a yes?”

She pulled away from him, giving him an impish look. “I thought you were fluent in sign and body language.”

He smiled and kissed her gently. “I would have learned how to say the phrase, but you were the only one I know who speaks Romanian. I was also afraid I'd get it wrong and ask you something about a goat instead.”

Her eyes flicked down to the ring box, where a platinum band with two small diamonds rested. “Er.. do I have to put it on myself?”

Dean shook his head and pulled the ring from the box and then took Ignacia's left hand, sliding the ring onto her finger. He wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. His heart had gone from pounding to soaring.

*  
Thinking about the wedding tended to make Dean dizzy. There wasn't going to be much to it, and it wasn't exactly easy to plan a wedding when he was up to his neck in school work, Ignacia was helping several girls get ready for the Junior Olympics,not to mention the fact that the church they were getting married in was in Maryland and their mothers could barely understand each other. It didn't help that Sam kept asking why the hell he and Ignacia weren't already living together to make things easier. Dean couldn't get why his brother didn't understand that Armand Madgearu would come all the way from Cosoba and kill him if he even _suggested_ doing such a thing.

That was if his own mother didn't kill him first.

Dean shouldered his backpack and started up the stairs to the apartment Ignacia still shared with a couple of Sanford students. He covered a yawn as he reached the landing and knocked twice on the door before it opened. Ignacia looked as worn out as he felt. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Ignacia stepped aside to let enter and then hugged him. 

He returned the hug, smiling. “How was your day?”

“Busy.” She walked over to the kitchen table, shaking her head at the scattered papers covering it. “I wish I could plead... how do you say...conflict of interest? and just go back to teaching five year old girls how to do cartwheels.” 

Dean slid into another chair and looked down at the documents thoughtfully. “I believe that consistency is the key at this point.” 

“The girls are not the problem. They understand that it is hard work and that if they do not make the team this year, there is next year.” She rested her arms on the table, holding her head in her hand. “It is their mothers that are the problem.”

“Herein is America's gymnastic problem. Millions of gyms across the country, filled with dozens of girls with gold medal dreams – and there's only six spaces on the Olympic team.” He shook his head.

“Thankfully, I don't have to deliver the bad news.” She rubbed her temple, giving him a small smile. “The day of the perfect ten have passed and the new scoring code confuses people. Many don't understand about deductions and what is and what doesn't count as one.”

“I know all to well about deductions.” He shook his head. “And prejudice.” 

She leaned over and squeezed his arm. “Well, if it was easy, it would not be so wonderful to watch.”

“Exactly.” Dean shifted in his seat. “Is anything else bothering you?”

“No.” She straightened up. “Though I'm curious – why does your father want to know if we want earplug required music or not at the wedding reception?”

He chuckled. “When deaf people have large parties, such as weddings or proms, when the music is played at a very high volume, the beat it easier to pick up, and thus, we can dance.” He paused. “Though I do not think it would exactly be fair to the rest of the guests and any other parties taking place at the hotel if the volume is played at maximum level the entire time.”

“I see.” She smoothed back her hair. “Perhaps there could just be...” Her face fell. “Oh...” 

“What's wrong?” He was confused by her expression.

“I – aren't we supposed to have the first dance?” Ignacia's face flamed red. “I'm sorry I...”

“I've actually thought of a solution for that already.” He grinned. “We just need to pick the song in plenty of time.”

 _“What's your idea?”_ She slipped into speaking solely in sign – something that automatically told Dean one of her roommates was back or was out in the apartment.

 _“It's very easy – we pick a song and we practice dancing to it, as if it were nothing more than another gymnastics routine.”_ Dean saw the smile start to spread across her face. _“I'll even let you lead until we get the hang of it.”_

 _“That – is a brilliant idea.”_ She leaned over and kissed his cheek. 

***  
Only a handful of people knew the significance of the wedding date, September nineteenth. Most people assumed that with the couple's busy schedules, it was the only available week they both had time to do it. It had required rescheduling several things, but it was the date that Dean and Ignacia wanted. It had been on that day, in 1999, when the two of them had officially met at Individual Worlds in London. The two of them had discussed it, and since Dean's schooling was going to take up a serious bulk of the next year and a half, they decided that in lieu of a honeymoon now, on their tenth wedding anniversary, they would take a vacation to Hawaii. 

Dean smoothed down the front of his tuxedo jacket and adjusted the red and yellow roses of his boutonniere on his lapel. As the wedding was taking place in Maryland, Ignacia had chosen red and yellow with blue accents for the wedding colors. He wouldn't have cared if her colors were pink and pink – all he had asked was for flowers that weren't heavily scented. With a good portion of the guests and wedding party being hearing-impaired, heavy floral smells were enough to make some people sick. He looked at the clock behind him in the little room off the altar and then over at his cousin, Aaron, who was his best man. 

Sam and Adam were both here as ushers – and while Sam was his brother and they had lived together for the past few years, he knew Aaron better. The man turned and gave him a grin. “This has got to be the most sappy collection of prelude music I have ever heard.” 

Dean gave him a look. “You've only been to three weddings in your life.”

“You've got me there.” He came over to Dean and adjusted his jacket for him. “Don't look so nervous.”

“I'm trying not to.” He took a deep breath. “What song are they on?”

Aaron turned his head toward the door and then back to him. “Edelweiss. Seriously, what's up with that? I never thought of that as a song for a wedding.”

“ _The Sound of Music_ is Ignacia's favorite movie of all time.” Dean gave his cousin a grin. “Aren't you the one who likes to watch _The King and I_ every Valentines Day for no reason?”

“You got me there.” He gave him a once over. “They've switched to Amazing Grace. Time for us to go out there.” 

“Yeah.” Dean took a deep breath and he and his cousin went out into the church. As he stood there at the head of the isle, watching the seating of his grandparents, his mom and Ignacia's mom, he felt his heart start to pick up pace again. This was actually happening – this wasn't a dream and he and Ignacia were getting married. He knew that after Amazing Grace, the four bridesmaids would march into the church to a piece by Handel – the overture to _Messiah,_ part of which Dean knew Ignacia had used for her floor routine in Sydney. Okay, so maybe Aaron did have a point, this was all very sappy. But if you're going to make a lifetime commitment and since it was _their_ wedding, Dean figured they were well within their rights to be as sappy and as corny as they wanted.

When he saw the church doors close and the rest of the congregation stand up, he could feel the faint vibrations of the traditional bridal march echoing down from the pipe organ in the choir loft. When the doors opened and Ignacia appeared on her father's arm, Dean had to remind himself to breathe. 

Ignacia looked like an angel in her dress of white lace and something that made parts of it sparkle. He honestly thought he was going to start crying right now, before she'd even reached the front of the church. She wasn't wearing a veil over her face, instead, her hair had been pulled up into a mass of curls and a crown of those red and yellow roses encircled her head. When she and her father finally got to the front of the church, he swallowed hard and saw that she too, was on the verge of tears. 

*

The nerves had given away to a wonderful, dizzy feeling that just seemed to surround both of them. The ceremony seemed to be over in minutes, even though the clock said it was nearly an hour long and the photograph time afterwards? That seemed a blur as well. Of course, once the ceremony had been finished, the nerves were gone, even if the dizziness remained. 

**  
Dean came home from the hospital, not quite sure that due to the fact that he was deaf, the medical fields he could partake in were limited was a good thing or a bad thing. It was good in the fact that it spared him the nightmare of the ER, but at the same time, he would have to work twice as hard in his chosen field as any other student. He was thinking of settling on anesthesiology, because given his own problems, he should avoid psychiatry. The pediatrician dream, well – he hated to admit it, but his adviser did have a point. Most people didn't want their kids seeing a deaf doctor. 

It was late enough he knew Ignacia would either already be asleep or close to it as he let himself into their apartment and shook his head at the large stack of thank-you cards ready to go out in tomorrow's mail. She'd told him she was going to finish those tonight – the wedding had been two months ago and it was something that had been put off long enough. He was about to grab an orange out of the fruit bowl sitting on the table when he caught sight of a plain envelope addressed to him resting on the table. He pulled it out and frowned at the writing across the back of it.

_Do not open this without me._

Dean forgot about the orange and walked into the bedroom, changing into his sleep clothes. He had just finished brushing his teeth when he saw the light in the bedroom flick on out of the corner of his eye. He finished up and came out of the bathroom, sitting down on the bed. “I didn't mean to wake you.” He kissed her forehead.

“I wasn't asleep.” Ignacia bit at her bottom lip – a gesture that told Dean she was nervous about something.

“What's wrong?” He took her hands in his. “I saw the envelope...” He reached over and pulled it off of the bedside table where he'd put it.

“I...” She dropped her hands. “Why don't you open it first?”

“You're not sick, are you?” He pulled a folded piece of paper out of the envelope.

“No, I'm not sick.” She shifted so she could hug her knees, resting her chin on them. “Go on... have a look.” 

Dean shook his head, guessing this was something having to do with her work, or something similar. He unfolded the paper, frowning at the date scrawled across the top of it in her handwriting. _June 21, 2004_ He was about to ask what that date meant when he looked under the writing; where there was a sonogram picture. He felt his mouth drop open and his head jerked back up. “Annie?”

That angelic smile of hers spread across her face and she clasped his hand in hers. _“Da”_

He reached over and pulled her into a tight embrace, not caring that he was starting to cry. That familiar dizzy feeling was rising in his stomach – but he honestly didn't care. For right now, it wasn't a time to worry or be sad. It was a time to be happy. He moved away long enough to turn off the light and get settled into bed next to Ignacia. He wrapped his arm around her protectively, kissing the back of her neck. “I love you.” 

She squeezed his hand and then traced the words back to him across his palm.


End file.
